Adjourning
by TheoreticallyEva
Summary: Somewhere in time, Trisha is dying. Elsewhere in time, Hohenheim, Ed, and Al discuss life, death, their parallels, and how they learned about it from Trisha. Just a nice, fairly light one-shot.


**Disclaimer and author's note at the bottom. I will, however, mention quickly that this occurs during the timeline of "His Eulogy," my last fic. This fic can stand alone, but if you want it in better context, go read the one that came before it. (Which in turn has an ending that will be better understood in **_**another**_** multi-chapter fic I'm planning on writing. XD Ack, so many ideas, so many things to do, not enough hours in the day! *sigh* )**

In 1909, on that last day of inhaling and expelling oxygen after converting it to carbon dioxide, Trisha sometimes wondered whether anyone else ever had a clear understanding that they were going to die before it actually happened.

In 1920, Edward and Alphonse Elric sprawled on their respective beds in a nice hotel room while their father, Hohenheim, sat at the windowsill. They all laughed around their bites of ice cream as they discussed the quarrel the train station attendants had with a young toddler couple attempting to elope, and the subsequent arrival of their very distraught parents. They tried to remember the name of the town in which they were currently staying, but it continuously evaded them. Shrugging it off, they soon spoke instead of how they were looking forward to seeing the ocean Hohenheim loved. When the boys asked their father what he found so alluring about their destination, the old man smiled distantly. He finally provided a quiet answer regarding how dearly he loved their mother, seeming to have forgotten the original question.

Back in 1909, Trisha had collapsed on the kitchen floor, vaguely aware of fruit rolling unchecked in directions that took them away from her line of sight. Not that it mattered much; no amount of blinking could stop the dark splotches from obscuring her vision. She tried to reach out—the fruit needed to be cleaned for the boys, the boys, she had to get up for the boys!—but her mind had ceased communication with her limbs. Everything was shutting down, shutting down, she was sinking.

And in 1920, after reminiscing out loud about the place Trisha continued to hold in his heart, Hohenheim decided to ask his sons what had possessed them to try and bring her back to life, even knowing that such an act was forbidden. He had never really asked them before, figuring that he already knew the answer. But he wanted to hear it from their mouths.

But it was 1909, and Trisha's slowing mind picked up the reverberations of the kitchen door being slammed open. She heard her sons' terrified gasps, the pounding of their feet on the wooden floor intensifying the sinking feeling, as though they were stomping hard enough to break the panels underneath her.

In 1920, those same boys were answering Hohenheim's query. They explained that it was Mother who had always taught them how to move on, to keep walking on your own two legs no matter how horrible their circumstances became, but they had not wanted to move on without Mother. It was loneliness, for they missed her, their tower of strength, their reason, the center of their yet-infantile universe. It was betrayal, abandonment, and hesitancy for they could not simply go on with their lives without Mother; they could not leave her behind, although they mused that perhaps it was _they_ who did not want to be left behind, or perhaps it was both. It was cowardice, for they did not want to be brave enough to accept death as part of life. It was naivety, for they thought they could do something to bring back the woman they loved dearer than anyone. It was a lot of things. Mother had meant everything to him, everything that was sane, worthwhile, and true. Above all, "moving on" was something they had simply not wanted to do. Because of this, they had failed to properly learn from Mother's teachings, but once they paid the blood-drenched price for their heedlessness, they realized what she had truly meant. Life was to be continued. And they found they were able to do it after all. They moved on. They continued.

However, in 1909, Trisha was unable to express the joy she felt over seeing her boys for one last moment as they crouched over her. At a glimpse of the horror etched on their faces, her heart lurched for its one last desperate beat. The darkness that had kept threatening to devour her vision suddenly exploded into light. She was no longer sinking; she was rising slowly, floating along a breeze that did not touch her.

Meanwhile, in 1920, Hohenheim smiled warmly at Edward and Alphonse. After a few long, peaceful moments of contemplative silence, he said that he agreed. He told them that their mother had taught him the same lesson, though she had unwittingly added another level to it that eventually brought about his departure. He understood that to move on, to continue, is indeed good, indeed beneficial, and that there is always somewhere to go. Being unable to follow her when she moved on frightened him, and that was when he began seeking a way to alleviate that fear. He loved her, she gave him every reason to love her, and so he wanted to continue through life and beyond with her and none else. Perhaps his mistake was not so different from that of his sons, then, for he became so caught up in trying to find a way to reverse his condition that he forgot how important it was to simply be. He, too, had not grasped the full meaning of his love's words. He mused, smirking in that way of his, that she had taught all of them the importance of continuation, perhaps even perpetuation, by living as well as by dying. Realizing this commonality among them caused Ed and Al to grin, feeling something of Mother in the room with them, knowing she existed in their bonds.

And it may have been 1909, but then, it may have been anytime at all, if time still indeed existed. All Trisha knew was that she was somewhere that let her feel everything and nothing all at once. There was a being, something humanoid, reaching out to her. It did not scare her, but she took a moment to study it. It seemed to know what she was thinking. And it smiled, emanating a strange, ethereal warmth that engulfed her, telling her that her life had been adjourned.

Hohenheim, still basking in the light evening glow with his sons in 1920, remarked that he believed life and death were not so very different.

**I'm undecided about whether I like the way this piece was organized. I wanted to achieve a certain tone by not expressly separating the events in both time periods with page breaks or dividing the whole piece in half or even thirds. I wanted it to give an impression of things happening all at once. (I have this theory that time isn't really like a sequence of events, you see. Anybody ever read **_**Slaughterhouse Five**_**? Very interesting. Lewdness and potty mouths annoyed me a bit, but still very interesting.) But I figure I'll be told whether or not this technique worked. I really like experimenting with different styles and techniques! My trusty little sister is a frequent guinea pig of mine, and she always lets me know which experiments are good and interesting and which ones are stupid. XD Ah, good ol' siblings. She's in bed right now, though, and she doesn't know all that much about Fullmetal Alchemist anyway, so I'm just stickin' this one out there, hot off the grill. It's kind of short, I know (by my standards, anyway). But I've got a lot of deliciously long stuff coming soon. :3**

**Aaaanyway, this one was in pieces in my brain for a while, and they finally glued themselves together tonight when I was working on updating notes for another fan fic (which will be awesoooome! X3 ) and decided to look up the official definition of "adjourn" on a whim (because I do that). For those too lazy to look it up, it means, "to suspend indefinitely or to another time or place," or simply "to move to another place." I have come to the conclusion that it is a perfect word to describe death. But then, I'm one o' them believing-in-an-afterlife types. And beyond. :)**

**I took a guess at what year Trisha died; if I'm wrong, feel free to hit my head with a gavel and correct me. Also, in my little timeline for "His Eulogy," I set the events five years after the Promised Day, which I assumed occurred in 1915 because I figured enough time in the manga had probably passed that it isn't 1914 anymore.  
**

**Also, if you've seen Episode, um…. Um…. I'm going to take a gander and say that it's Episode 27….? It's the one after Ed sees Al's body at the gate; it's sort of a filler episode, I guess, consisting of Hohenheim's memories taking over his BRAAAAIIIIIN temporarily. (And I'm talking about the Brotherhood anime here. The second anime. I don't write for the first one. I was not very impressed by it. *shrugs* ) Anyway, in that episode, it's Trisha who lifts Hohenheim out of his depression by encouraging him to never stop believing in himself and in people, to keep going. And I betcha that's what made him fall in love with her. Ahh, I love Trisha! I wish we could've gotten to know her better before she passed away. *sigh***

**Judging by the cells I can feel popping in my brain, I think it is time for bed.**


End file.
